


Many Meetings

by Witch_Nova221



Series: Soldier's Song [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Episode AU: s01e12 Skin Deep, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_Nova221/pseuds/Witch_Nova221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin receives a summons from the little kingdom of Avonlea but the princess is unwilling to submit to his deal to save them. He meets the woman again two years later but her circumstances are greatly changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day They Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/gifts).



> This is a little two part ficlet prompted by the wonderful Mariequitecontrarie following on from my story - The Long Road. Marie prompted- 'A wee bird told me you were opening your Rumbelle Is Hope Warrior!Belle WoobieDO!Rum verse for prompts. I'd like to prompt the day these two met.'
> 
> Well here you go my lovely. Hope you enjoy.

Rumplestiltskin looked up from his spinning as he heard the familiar flutter in the entrance hall of the Dark Castle. The absence of any life in the glittering mausoleum of accumulated treasures meant sound travelled, even the echo of his own boots sometimes driving him to distraction at the volume of them. 

For one hundred and fifty years, he had ruled over his solitary little kingdom on the mountain. The only people he saw being the ones who came to him looking for a magical solution to their problems and then ran screaming when it came time to pay the price for the magic they required. In the most part, he enjoyed the quiet that gave him time to spin and cast his mind back over his long life. Time to think of Baelfire. For all his desire to prove that he needed no one though, there were times when even he felt lonely, human contact was as rare thing for the Dark One. His only respite came with the visits from Jefferson often accompanied by his wife and young daughter, the plucky two year old always thawing the ice around the Dark One’s heart. 

The echo of childish giggles in the castle made every room feel warmer and Rumple had on occasion even conjured a snowstorm in an effort to get his companions to stay longer. He knew both Jefferson and his wife saw through him and before too long they had arrived for every visit with bags packed and the village was glad that the unexpected blizzards ceased.

Still, his only friends aside, the castle was too huge and too dark, even for him. He thought often of quitting it but he needed the status it gave him, an imposing castle to house the Dark One and all his magical treasures. He enjoyed seeing the intimidation on the faces of those who dared to come visit him in his home. Exhausted after their trek up the mountain, they would be instantly more pliable than if they arrived fresh. 

Still, much like the curse within him, he both loved and loathed his vast home. Longing to be rid of it whilst also understanding its necessity.

With a sigh, he put aside the wool he had been working with, straw abandoned when he had no need to demonstrate his power for anyone visiting. Getting to his feet, he headed through the vast hall to the open double doors and the entrance hall beyond. There, upon the dusty oak table, sat a single letter bearing a peacock blue seal. He picked it up, recognising the twin rose and crown crest of the kingdom of Avonlea. He nearly tossed the letter aside, the little backwater kingdom known for very little and half ravaged by ogres but something gave him pause.

He broke the seal and opened up the thick parchment, the penmanship was cramped and poor and he knew from the first words that the monarch himself had written it. Any scribe would have had a better education. The letter was short, terse and to the point. The kingdom was under threat of annihilation from the ogres and all military resources had been exhausted. The summons they had sent him was clearly a last resort and yet, in their seeming desperate state, they chose to offer him gold.

Rumple scoffed and tossed the letter back onto the table, returning to his spinning and the silence of his castle. There it had remained, abandoned on the table where it had first arrived, several days passing without it even being noticed by the sorcerer. It had been one of the rare nights that Rumple had found himself in need of mortal rest that had brought a change to his mind though. In the short hours he had been asleep the same dream had come to him again and again. Blue the colour of sapphires flashed across his subconscious, something pleading with him and then the image of the letter. Again and again, it played out as he tossed and turned in the large bed until he finally woke. 

Without thought, he ran down the stairs to the entrance hall, not bothering to find a robe or shoes in his haste. He caught up the letter, reading it in the pale light of the dawn that was breaking over the mountain. The words were the same, coarse and arrogant but something beneath the words, beneath the material objects that had made up the construction of the letter. Something in the depths of Avonlea was calling, reaching him without any intent beyond a longing, a wish. A desperate soul but it was not the king that bore it.

With a wave of his hand he was dressed head to toe in leather and dragonhide, the impenetrable armour he wore whenever he went to his work. It was the matter of another simple spell to propel him to the throne room of the kingdom that sought him. Concealing himself in the rafters, he observed them without notice, taking measure of his prey before he chose to swoop.

The king was unmistakeable, the archetypal image of his breed past a certain age. Portly and ruddy-faced, he huffed and puffed around the room, trying to look above the rest but truly as ill educated as most noble princes. Taught in their youth to fight and to preen in order to win a bride but not how to govern despite that being their main role in life once the heirs had been begotten. He was a man well passed his prime, probably a few heavy feasts away from some catastrophic malady, and Rumple knew from the outset he would get nothing from a deal with him. 

The king talked animatedly to a young man who was constantly at his side. Handsome and well turned he was the epitome of a young princeling that was ready to be given as a bridegroom. He spoke too formally to the monarch to be a son or even a son-in-law but too confidently to be a mere general or advisor. His effort to ingratiate himself gave him away; a son-in-law to be that still had not secured his lady’s hand in matrimony so he was making love to the father in an effort to gain it.

As if the thoughts had conjured her, the imp’s eyes fell on the princess in question. He felt his nerve endings sing at the sight of her; not because of her beauty, though he could not deny she was lovely to look at. What attracted him was the utter desperation that poured off her in waves. There were so many facets to the sensation, fear of the ogres, worry for her people, displeasure at being ignored, anger at her father but the most potent was the desperate need to escape. It was not just the clutches of her unwanted betrothed that she wanted to escape but the very life that had forced her into the match. This was a woman who wanted her freedom. 

Rumple rubbed his hands together, knowing there was sport to be had with the mortals before him but there was something else at the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t shake. With a wave of his hand a loud knocking echoed through the room, the occupants turned to the great oak door, giving him the chance to slip from the rafters, and into the throne the king had vacated. 

Their surprise at his presence soon turned to anger when he rejected the gold they offered him and the king soon dismissed him, the simpering young knight who bowed to the monarch’s every whim coming to guard as though his sword could offer any damage. It was the princess though who begged her father to reconsider, to make a deal with the Dark One to save their people.

Mischief pushed to the forefront of the imp’s mind but the irritable little itch followed in its wake once more and he was suddenly assaulted by the vision of the pretty princess within the halls of his own castle. An opponent at the chessboard, a face across the dinner table, a final word of goodnight as the darkness took hold of the mountainside. He shook off the thought but his mouth ran ahead of his mind, the words tripping from his tongue before he could stop them.

“My price is her,” he said, cursing his own words the moment they left him.

He heard the protests around him, the fiancé asserting his ownership and the king his outrage but he paid them no mind. He was too caught in the fury he saw in the sapphire blue eyes of the young princess before him. He felt an odd surge of pride as the petite woman turned to the knight as he tried to push her behind him, forcing him to back off as she asserted that none would choose her fate but her.

She approached him, a little shorter than him even in her heeled shoes but somehow he felt as though she towered over him.

“That’s you’re price?” she said, “My enslavement to you for the lives of my people? What will I be? Mistress? Concubine? Or do you wish to create a line of little Dark One’s and you have to barter for a woman to achieve it?”

Her words were meant to sting him, he was sure but they spoke more of her. That was what she had been brought up to expect. Men wanted one thing and one thing alone from noble womenfolk and the Dark One was no different in her eyes.

“I’m not looking for love,” he sneered, needing to regain the upper hand as pity for her started to weaken his resolve, “I need a caretaker for my rather large estate.”

The unladylike snort that came from the elegant woman before him nearly had him doubled over in laughter at the sound of it but he kept his composure. Intrigued as he was by the fiery little princess he was not about to give any quarter when there was a deal to be had.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Believe what you wish, dearie,” said Rumple, “That’s my price. The lives of everyone in your kingdom for your servitude. Bind yourself to my service for eternity and I will let every single man, woman and mewling infant live.”

“And what happens when another kingdom chooses to invade or our crops fail?” said the princess, “What would be your price then? To save my people you would leave this kingdom without an heir and a king without a successor is an easy target. I won’t agree to your deal, Dark One for though it may waylay the threat against us now it will not prevent others”

Rumple cocked an eyebrow, impressed by her quick analysis of her situation and her even quicker tongue, “The threat I offer to waylay is the one on your doorstep Princess,” he said, “But if you wish to find someone else to help you…”

“We’ll help ourselves,” said the woman, “Unless you have anything else to offer?”

Rumple didn’t answer her, instead offering her an elegant bow, meeting her gaze as he straightened, “Well then, Your Highness, I find my usefulness here is at an end,” he said, turning on his heel and heading to the door, “Good luck in your little war.”

He did not wait to hear their response, transporting himself from the room before he even reached the door. He reappeared just beyond the outskirts of Avonlea, looking across at the small kingdom and then the distinct evidence of the ogres now just beyond the horizon. He sneered and waved a hand, not halting the beasts in their path but buying the little kingdom a few more weeks grace. He put it down to his hatred of the creatures but in his heart he knew that he had done it for the extraordinary young princess who had had the guts to stand up to the Dark One as though she were his equal. 

His treacherous mind threw up images of what could have occurred had she agreed to serve him at the Dark Castle. Spirited arguments and passionate debates a daily occurrence but there was also a sharp wit and a keen mind to converse with of an evening. There was laughter in the once dark and silent hallways. 

Rumple shook his head with a growl, refusing to entertain the thoughts any further as his heart gave a funny twist beneath his rib cage. He summoned his magic with a view to returning home but changed his destination at the last minute, certain that Jefferson and his wife would not mind an unscheduled visit. Maybe he would even see if they had space for him to stay the night.

xxxx

“Leave me alone Gaston,” hissed Belle, slapping his hand away from where it now sat brazenly around her ribs, millimetres away from her breast.

“You’re promised to me Belle,” said the knight, his words pitched to calm but his face losing nothing of the predator he truly was, “We are as good as wedded.”

“No we’re not or a wedding would not be required,” said Belle, wriggling out of his grip and rushing to her door, slamming it and locking it before he could follow.

She flinched as he pounded on the wood, demanding entrance and asserting that she was his and would learn to welcome his touch when they were married. Belle swallowed back the bile that rose in her throats at his threats, knowing it would be pointless to call on the guard now that her father had all but sold her to the man. 

Finally, the pounding and the shouts quieted. Only then did she give in to her tears, cursing again that she had not taken the deal offered by the Dark One to serve him. For two weeks, since she had refused him she had been forced to watch the ogres march closer and closer. No one in her father’s court had been able to find a solution save to throw soldier after soldier into the massacre and none of them would listen to her. Had she gone with Rumplestiltskin the kingdom would have been saved from the ogres and she from Gaston. 

The Dark One had requested a she become his caretaker and the prospect grew more appealing day by day. She had feared he had wanted more but on reflection, there had been no lechery in his gaze. He had looked like her as though she was a person rather than a brood mare or political pawn. She toyed with the idea of sending for him again but something made her think it was a one-time deal and she had lost her chance. 

She glared down at the engagement ring on her hand, wishing she had the privilege that Rumplestiltskin and every other male in her world had. They could decide what they wanted and what they didn’t want. They were free to pursue their own destiny. They were free to say no.

Belle’s heart stuttered in her chest as the realisation hit her like a wave. She had said no. She had decided her own fate. She had denied the Dark One, stood toe to toe with the most powerful sorcerer in the world and told him no. What were Gaston and her father in comparison to Rumplestiltskin?

She looked over at her bedroom window, one she had climbed out of so often in her childhood. The ledge led to a flat roof and then it was a relatively easy climb down to the ground. She had breeches and a tunic in her armoire and a short sword beneath her bed. 

There were miners beyond the town. Men who could fell great rocks where her father refused to allow the soldiers too. If she were to leave Avonlea, she could at least save them in the act of doing so. 

Before her courage could flee her, she tore off her engagement ring and hurled it towards the wall. The Princess of Avonlea was betrothed to Gaston and she relinquished that title and the trappings that went with it as she took up a bag to carry her most treasured possessions. 

From that moment on, no one would decide her fate but her.


	2. The Night They Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after their first meeting, Rumple seeks out a sell-sword to help him fulfil his deal and finds Belle willing to aid him. He is unprepared though, for the balm she will bring to a heart once more broken by loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - minor character death.

The letter was short but to the point. 

‘Priscilla hurt. Healers no help. Come quickly.’

Rumplestiltskin needed no further command than that. Jefferson’s letter abandoned on the table in the entranceway of the Dark Castle as he summoned a bag full of medicinal herbs and disappeared from his home. 

He reappeared outside Jefferson’s cottage, almost running straight into some hooded healer who gave a shriek of alarm and scampered from sight the moment they realised who they had collided with. Rumple stepped through the open door and his heart broke at the sight of Grace sat by the fireside, cradling her dollies. The four-year-old looked up as she heard his footsteps, her face crumpling before she dropped the dolls and ran to him, catching him around his legs before he reached down to hoist her up.

“Now then little one,” he said, not caring for the still open door that could let anyone see him, “You can cry, you can cry my dear girl.”

“Rumple?” said Jefferson, pushing aside the curtain that marked the boundary to the other room, “You came.”

“How could I not?” said Rumple, setting Grace back on her feet, “What happened?”

“An accident,” said Jefferson, “Did you see Grace’s aunt on the way in?”

“Not as yet,” said Rumple, “I need see Priscilla. Grace dearie, you need to let me loose so I can see to your mama.”

“Please make her well?” begged Grace, “She’s very poorly.”

“I will do all that I can my dear,” said Rumple, “Sit by the fireside and play with your dolls. I will be as quick as I can.”

Grace did as she was told though she moved slowly, clearly wishing to stay close to her father and the imp she had adopted as an uncle.

“Take me to her Jeff,” said Rumple once Grace had settled once more and the hatter pushed aside the curtain, leading Rumple into the bedroom beyond.

The tang of magic gone awry permeated the air and Rumple’s stomach turned at the damage he could already sense, the call of magicks always strong between him and the two portal jumpers he called friends.

“Priscilla dear, what happened?” he said, kneeling beside the bed and taking her outstretched hand.

“I was careless and the rules of the portal were broken,” rasped the woman on the bed, “I was the only one to go in and I should have been the only one to come out but I didn’t factor the bandit who grabbed me just as I stepped passed the threshold. I fought him off but it was too late and now I feel…”

“You must tell me Cilla, I need to know all if I’m to help,” said Rumple, his free hand resting against the pale, clammy skin of her cheek.

“I feel diminished. Like a ghost holding on to this world by a thread,” said Priscilla, “The healers can find nothing wrong but I’m ill Rumple, I fear I’m dying.”

“Nonsense,” said Rumple, “I’m here now and I will see you right.”

Priscilla’s choked laugh soon turned into a cough before Rumple placed a hand to her throat, his magic easing it until she could breathe normally again.

“Silly old sorcerer,” she said after a moment, “You don’t know yet if you can make me well so don’t make me promises you can’t keep and don’t waste your magic, I don’t want you paying a higher price than you already pay.”

“I would suffer the pains of every damned soul to see you well,” said Rumple sincerely, “Jefferson I will need a good fire and a cauldron and be quick about it man.”

Priscilla smiled as her husband nodded and left the room, shaking her head as Rumple perched on the bed beside her, “You’re wasting our firewood, imp,” she said, squeezing his hand, “You could have conjured both in an instant. It must be bad news if you’re giving my husband busy work.”

“You’re dying Cilla,” said Rumple, “I knew the moment I walked in the room. The very essence of your magic has been ripped out of you and it is beyond me or any magic in this world to save you. I can prolong your life, a few months maybe but you will be in pain for the duration. If I do nothing, I doubt you will see the nightfall.”

“Not quite the usual choice you give me,” said Priscilla, with a wistful smile, “Usually it’s whether I want lemon or milk in my tea. Do nothing Rumple, I don’t want months of pain, I’m not brave enough. This morning I was well, let Grace remember that. Besides, I know you too well old friend. You wouldn’t ask a price and you would harm yourself in helping me and that I cannot have.”

“Cilla…”

“My mind is made up, Rum,” she said, screwing her eyes shut as her hand tightened around his, pain etched into every line on her youthful face, “Just promise me you’ll take care of Jeff and Gracie. They’ll need you.”

“I will watch over them as I always have,” said Rumple, “I can give you a draft to make you more comfortable until the time comes.”

Priscilla nodded, “So long as I can have time to speak to Jeff and Grace then I will take any relief you can offer me,” she said, “Thank you old friend, for everything.”

“It is I who should thank you,” said Rumple, “You, Jefferson and Grace have been family to me for so long.”

“I believe you’ll find your boy Rumple, one day. Just promise me you won’t be lonely whilst you wait for him,” said Priscilla, “You hide it but you have a great capacity for love. Find someone to share your heart with.”

“How can I when my dearest friend is speeding it away with her?” said Rumple, his voice catching as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it, “I will miss you.”

“I’m mortal, I was born to die. Just not so quickly maybe,” said Priscilla, “Bring Jeff and Gracie to me, I need to speak to them. Will you stay? At least until… they will need you.”

“I will stay as long as I am needed,” said Rumple, setting her hand back down on the blankets that covered her, “I’ll be back shortly.”

True to his word, Rumple stayed, sharing the family’s grief as Priscilla slowly passed to oblivion. He calmed Jefferson’s grief and anger, giving him the strength he needed to comfort his child. For two days, he stayed with the family, Jefferson’s sister helping where she could but neither Grace nor the hatter took comfort from their presence. 

Rumple paid for the small funeral, not wanting financial hardship to fall on his friends, concealing his true appearance from those who attended to protect them from any scorn. When his presence finally became a burden, he took himself away, promising to look in on them whenever he could and leaving the Dark Castle open to them if they ever felt they needed to be away from home. He had conjured a stuffed rabbit for Grace as he left, knowing it would do little to ease her grief but the small smile she gave him in return eased the parting slightly.

Unwilling to return home to the castle he set off on the hunt for a deal, so many desperate souls to be found though none were as desperate as the one’s he left. Their suffering did not call to his magic though, no deal able to produce what they wished for and if he had the power, he would bear the price alone.

He passed through kingdom after kingdom and deal after deal but even the thrill of the magic and the price seemed hollow, a brief high amidst the darkness that lay heavier on him than it had in a long time. It was only when he reached the court of King Midas and was summoned to the king himself that he felt something more than a distant excitement thrum beneath his skin. Something more than a deal was before him but his foresight would not give him any further clues.

A Hydra was plaguing the kingdom, kidnapping villagers and destroying crops but not one single soldier had been able to beat the creature. The price he asked for was steep but Midas was more than willing to part with it and Rumple had happily made his way to seek his foe with the promise of several rare spell books propelling him forward.

What he had not expected to find was an enchanted Hydra, the beast nigh on impossible to defeat, with either sword or magic. Rumple had tried to wield both at once but had come away with nothing more than singed clothes and a wounded pride. Knowing he would need to procure the services of a warrior he sought out the bars the sell-swords frequented, looking for their next pay cheques but none of them proved to have any promise. Something drove him onward though, the itch at the back of his mind telling him that one more bar would do the trick.

xxxx

Belle groaned, dropping into a chair and chucking the dragonhead she carried onto the table in front of her.

“Not bad for a woman, hey?” she said to the healer before her, “Pull that to bits and make of it what you will. You owe me five hundred gold pieces still.”

The healer grumbled but tossed her a purse of the promised coin before he scooped up the dragon’s head and left the bar. 

Belle could feel eyes on her as she slipped the purse into an inside pocket of her coat, keeping it as close to her skin as she could manage, knowing that amongst the sell-swords and travellers were thieves and pickpockets looking for an easy target. She almost laughed at the thought; it had been a long time since she had been an easy target. In the two years since she had left her father’s kingdom she had become a skilled warrior, honing her skills in training camps and then in the field until she was sought out by those who needed a sword arm and no questions. 

Her initial clients had all been women who were too afraid to engage the services of a male, their prices often of a more carnal nature than gold or goods. Belle hadn’t minded starting out in such a way, her security also maintained and before too long husbands and lovers had heard of her actions and had come to here with problems of their own. She had a steady stream of clients now but she longed for one big challenge, glory more important to her than reward, knowing that such a story would reach her father’s ears and prove her worth as more than a bauble.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she did not hear the hush that fell over the bar but the voice that rang out was unmistakeable. A sound she had heard so often in her dreams.

“I’m looking for a warrior,” spoke the Dark One into the packed room, “I will pay well.”

Silence answered him, no one brave enough to take on a quest for the sorcerer despite the wealth he could provide. Belle straightened her shoulders, keeping her back to him and deepening her voice as best she could in an attempt to disguise herself.

“What’s the quarry?” she said, hearing the startled gasps around her as she spoke.

“A Hydra,” replied the Dark One, “A dangerous foe for a girl. Especially one who used to be a princess.”

Belle looked up in alarm as his final statement was delivered in front of her rather than behind. She saw the imp smirk at having surprised her and she set her face into a scowl.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said, inclining in her head in an attempt at bravery, “You remember me.”

“Oh I never forget a face dearie,” he said, the fingers of his left hand worrying his thumb as he regarded her, “Hardly a place fit for someone of your station.”

“Surely you’ve heard that my station changed not long after we last spoke?” said Belle, trying her best to keep the tremble from her voice as she looked up at him.

“I’d heard a rumour or two,” said the Dark One, “Princess Belle of Avonlea now a common sell-sword, what does your darling betrothed have to say on that score?”

“Whatever he has to say he no doubt speaks into the breasts of whichever whore he has chosen to take to his bed most recently,” hissed Belle, “My association with Sir Gaston was well ended and long ago.”

“His loss and the world of mercenary trade’s gain then,” said Rumple as he regarded her, “You’ve changed princess.”

“That was the intention,” said Belle, “Now you mentioned a Hydra. What price are you offering?”

“You truly believe you can take on a Hydra?” said Rumple, failing to keep the note of pride from his voice, “This isn’t something you learn in a book, dearie.”

“Shall I take off your arm and let you see my ability with a blade, imp?” asked Belle, “Or maybe something significantly smaller?”

Rumple gave her a predatory smile, “My my, I do like this fiery new princess,” he purred, “This could be some sport but I don’t discuss business in public. Shall we?”

Before Belle could respond, she found herself sat not in the tavern but beside a large table in a great hall. A spinning wheel sat in one corner and she knew without question that she was in the famed Dark Castle.

“I thought you made your deals before you kidnapped young maidens?” she said, trying to suppress her surprise as a tea set appeared on the table in front of her.

“You’re free to leave whenever you please, my lady Belle,” said Rumple, “But I believe we have a deal to discuss. Five hundred gold pieces for your service plus a sword enchanted by my magic that will never fail you in battle.”

Belle laughed, “I can make double that for a dragon a five year old could fell,” she said, “Just this evening I took the second half of a payment for a creature that took me one blow to kill.”

“Fine, two thousand,” said Rumple.

“Five thousand,” said Belle, “Plus a shield suitable for use on a gorgon and the sword you promised.”

“Three thousand, the shield and the sword,” said Rumple, his eyes narrowing as she smirked at him.

“Four thousand, five hundred, the shield and the sword and your protection should I call your name when I’m in need.”

“Four thousand, the shield, the sword and the promise of promoting your name to my more discerning clients,” said Rumple, “Final offer.”

“Done,” said Belle, offering him her hand across the table, his palm rough but warm in hers as he shook it, “When do we begin?”

“Day break,” said Rumple, “I need to prepare a spell. I can transport you back to your lodgings or…”

“Or?” said Belle, narrowing her gaze as she swore she saw the strange green-gold skin on his cheeks darken in a blush.

“We need to leave early,” said Rumple, “There are rooms a-plenty here, if you would care to stay. I will be at work in my tower and the castle will provide all you need.”

Belle bit back a smile, unsure why she was happy at the invitation, “Thank you Rumplestiltskin,” she said, “I would prefer to stay here, if you’re sure.”

“Not at all,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Like I say, the castle will provide.”

He disappeared in a cloud of red smoke before Belle could even answer him and she smiled at his skittish behaviour, wondering what had prompted him to act so. With a sigh, she got to her feet, looking around for an exit she could take in the hope of finding a room. A door creaked and opened behind her, the torches flaring to life and she happily followed content in the notion that the castle would do her no harm.

xxxx

Belle giggled, drunk on victory and a battle hard fought as she sat once more at the great long table in the Dark Castle, a Hydra head, new shield and sword, and a sack full of golden coins at her feet.

“A job well done, I’d say,” she said, raising the elegant cup of tea Rumple had poured for her in a salute to the victory, “Though I would give anything to see Midas’ face again when he realised you were leaving the entire body in his throne room.”

“He wanted the Hydra dead,” said Rumple, patting his new spell books fondly, “He didn’t specify what he wanted done with the body.”

“You’re a cruel creature Rumplestiltskin.”

“Says the woman who became a feral demon in that cave,” he replied, “I heard you were good but dearie you were magnificent.”

Belle smiled, “Why thank you sir,” she said, “Perhaps you will see fit one day to tell my father. Let him know that women folk are worth far more with a sword in their hand than a babe in their arms.”

Rumple sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers before him, “I trust I can call on your services again when required,” he said, “You could be quite invaluable.”

“Keep my room here prepared and we’ll see,” said Belle.

“Oh that’s your room now is it?” said Rumple, joining in her laughter and wondering when the halls last rang with the sound.

Pain pierced his heart as he realised it was when Jefferson last visited with Priscilla and Grace. He set his cup down as he felt his hand tremble, the pain all too raw still and set in stark relief against the joviality of the moment with Belle.

“Rumple?” said the woman across from him, “Is something wrong?”

“A memory dear,” he said absently, “Which I was reminded of. It matters not now. Would you like some more tea?”

Belle nodded, holding out the cup to him and biting back her questions at his sudden melancholy. The main door slamming back on its hinges startled her and the cup tumbled from her grip and onto the floor. 

Rumple turned from the table as the door to the great hall opened, a handsome young man striding in without pause.

“Princeling,” sneered Rumple, “I don’t have time for your whining right now. If you need me, you may climb the mountain again.”

With a wave of his hand, the prince disappeared from the room, only his call of protest ringing out in the hall when he had gone.

“I can tell that one is going to be annoying,” said the sorcerer, bending to pick up Belle’s dropped cup, running a finger along the chip in the rim.

“Sorry,” said the woman, “He startled me. Probably should work on that considering my job.”

“You probably should,” said Rumple, “But worry not about it, it’s just a cup. Now tell me, Lady Belle, how fare you at chess?”

“As well as I do at fighting Hydra, my lord,” she answered, unsurprised when a black and white board, already set with players, replaced their tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two coming soon - The Night They Met.


End file.
